Read Online Those Summer Nights (Corfu, Greek Island Romance) by Mandy Baggot - Free Book Online
Authors: Mandy Baggot
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Romantic Comedy, Bachelor, millionaire, sensual, Brother, fantasies, Mediterranean, Forever Love, Single Woman, Hearts Desire, restaurant, Corfu Greek Island, Family Taverna
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depression and the separation from Janie – didn’t seem fair. Her soft, sweet, Harry had had to shoulder so much, it was understandable he wanted to claim back his life, be in control.
Harry opened his eyes then and that smile was on his face again. She couldn’t deny he looked far more relaxed than she’d seen him recently.
‘Just think, Immy. Our restaurant could be just like this one in a few days’ time.’
Days . Had he really said days ? She sat up, pulling down the t-shirt that had started to stick to her body, and looked around the taverna they were sitting in. It was traditionally Greek with lots of wooden tables inside. Each had a slim bottle of olive oil and vinegar and a paper sheet clipped over its burgundy cotton tablecloth. Outside, under a vine-covered pergola with grapes just starting to sprout, were less formal chairs and tables next to pots of palms and flowers. All of it was surrounded by a low whitewashed wall on which sat plastic terracotta planters filled with white, pink and purple geraniums.
Imogen reached for her wine glass and picked it up quickly, bringing it to her lips. She wished she’d ordered a carafe… maybe with a side of Kalamata olives and a garlic dip.
‘I think we should take the rest of today to make plans and tomorrow we can really get stuck in to it.’ Harry took a sip of his beer. ‘I’ve got a skip coming first thing… well, you know, a Greek ‘first thing’. Might be here by tea time.’ He grinned.
‘I’m going to order some food,’ she stated, flipping open the brown plastic book on the table.
‘Good idea,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s see what they have.’
There weren’t just words but pictures. Photos that made her mouth water and her stomach start begging. Platters of meze stared back at her. Shiny black and green olives slick with oil, nestled next to fat hunks of feta and halloumi, fleshy, scarlet tomatoes and thick chunks of cucumber. An earthenware pot of meats and vegetables was labelled stifado and she could almost taste it.
‘I’m going to have some souvlaki ,’ Harry announced. ‘The chicken on skewers. Like the woman said at the airport, we can easily do that in our restaurant, can’t we? What did you say we should squeeze on it?’
‘Lime,’ Imogen answered.
She looked to the sea. It was idyllic. The trees at the water’s edge, the white stones and soft sand, the blue, gently shifting sea, the hyacinth sky and the mountain backdrop all made for one picture-postcard view. She watched two swimmers bobbing up and down in the water a few metres out before a black, expensive-looking car parked up outside the restaurant and blocked out everything. She sat forward. putting the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll have the stifado .’
She watched as the driver got out and immediately moved around to the passenger side. Tall, slim, black hair swept back from his face, he was dressed in business trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Imogen watched as the man opened the passenger door and a tiny older woman in a bright orange dress got out and batted the man on the arm, speaking quickly and loudly in Greek.
‘Uh-oh. Looks like a domestic,’ Harry said, turning to look. ‘When Janie looks at me like that I know I’m in trouble.’
‘Sshh!’ Imogen hissed, still watching. As the pair made their way up the steps into the restaurant, Imogen turned away, making a grab for her wine glass and knocking it clean off the table, where it fell to the tiles with a smash.
At the sound and the debris in front of them, the man and the little woman stopped walking and with heated cheeks Imogen dropped to the floor and began picking up the larger pieces of glass.
‘What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?’
The deep, Greek-accented voice was close to her ear and she felt the heat from his breath before she noticed the glass shard puncture the skin of her palm. Now it hurt and blood was starting to trickle down
Harry opened his eyes then and that smile was on his face again. She couldn’t deny he looked far more relaxed than she’d seen him recently.
‘Just think, Immy. Our restaurant could be just like this one in a few days’ time.’
Days . Had he really said days ? She sat up, pulling down the t-shirt that had started to stick to her body, and looked around the taverna they were sitting in. It was traditionally Greek with lots of wooden tables inside. Each had a slim bottle of olive oil and vinegar and a paper sheet clipped over its burgundy cotton tablecloth. Outside, under a vine-covered pergola with grapes just starting to sprout, were less formal chairs and tables next to pots of palms and flowers. All of it was surrounded by a low whitewashed wall on which sat plastic terracotta planters filled with white, pink and purple geraniums.
Imogen reached for her wine glass and picked it up quickly, bringing it to her lips. She wished she’d ordered a carafe… maybe with a side of Kalamata olives and a garlic dip.
‘I think we should take the rest of today to make plans and tomorrow we can really get stuck in to it.’ Harry took a sip of his beer. ‘I’ve got a skip coming first thing… well, you know, a Greek ‘first thing’. Might be here by tea time.’ He grinned.
‘I’m going to order some food,’ she stated, flipping open the brown plastic book on the table.
‘Good idea,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s see what they have.’
There weren’t just words but pictures. Photos that made her mouth water and her stomach start begging. Platters of meze stared back at her. Shiny black and green olives slick with oil, nestled next to fat hunks of feta and halloumi, fleshy, scarlet tomatoes and thick chunks of cucumber. An earthenware pot of meats and vegetables was labelled stifado and she could almost taste it.
‘I’m going to have some souvlaki ,’ Harry announced. ‘The chicken on skewers. Like the woman said at the airport, we can easily do that in our restaurant, can’t we? What did you say we should squeeze on it?’
‘Lime,’ Imogen answered.
She looked to the sea. It was idyllic. The trees at the water’s edge, the white stones and soft sand, the blue, gently shifting sea, the hyacinth sky and the mountain backdrop all made for one picture-postcard view. She watched two swimmers bobbing up and down in the water a few metres out before a black, expensive-looking car parked up outside the restaurant and blocked out everything. She sat forward. putting the menu back on the table. ‘I’ll have the stifado .’
She watched as the driver got out and immediately moved around to the passenger side. Tall, slim, black hair swept back from his face, he was dressed in business trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Imogen watched as the man opened the passenger door and a tiny older woman in a bright orange dress got out and batted the man on the arm, speaking quickly and loudly in Greek.
‘Uh-oh. Looks like a domestic,’ Harry said, turning to look. ‘When Janie looks at me like that I know I’m in trouble.’
‘Sshh!’ Imogen hissed, still watching. As the pair made their way up the steps into the restaurant, Imogen turned away, making a grab for her wine glass and knocking it clean off the table, where it fell to the tiles with a smash.
At the sound and the debris in front of them, the man and the little woman stopped walking and with heated cheeks Imogen dropped to the floor and began picking up the larger pieces of glass.
‘What are you doing? Are you out of your mind?’
The deep, Greek-accented voice was close to her ear and she felt the heat from his breath before she noticed the glass shard puncture the skin of her palm. Now it hurt and blood was starting to trickle down
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